


All Better Now

by raregloves



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Anthea, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, POV Anthea, Protective Mycroft, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 21:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2203704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raregloves/pseuds/raregloves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthea is the only one to leave the building alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Better Now

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Fic prompt for Mythea! :) Some hurt/comfort, with Mycroft doing the comforting after Anthea witnesses something truly horrific while working! Please and thank you! :)

There was a horrible, ringing silence. Anthea waited, blinking blood out of her eyes, fingers tensed to pull the trigger again. If a foot so much as twitched she would shoot it off. But everything was still.  
  
She dropped the gun and slumped against the wall. Blood was still seeping slowly from the wound across her forehead. It probably wasn’t serious, despite the amount of blood.  
  
The building (it had once been used to make cigars) was freezing and quiet. The only noise was her own ragged breathing and the distant sound of dogs fighting. Would anyone have heard the shots? The area wasn’t highly populated, and rarely invited the police into their affairs. Even so, Anthea, realized, she could not rest for much longer.  
  
Her main problem now was getting from where she was to the door. It was about a hundred meters to the door, and the floor was littered with mess: blood, bodies, crates, shattered glass from the broken window set into the high, rusted metal ceiling.   
  
They’d taken her shoes, along with her phone and wire. They hadn’t taken her earrings, which doubled as lock picks.   
  
With a deep breath, Anthea looked to the nearest body. In the half-darkness she could see only his tall, thin outline against the ground. A huge stain spread out around his chest.  
  
‘Oh god,’ she said, bending down. ‘Oh god…’  
  
She grabbed his leg and lifted it until she could reach his shoelaces. With steady fingers she undid them. Her nails were caked with blood. The shoe came off. Anthea put it aside, then started on the next leg, working fast before rigor mortis could set in.  
  
Once she had both shoes she slipped them on. She shuddered at the feel of the fabric against her feet- they were still slightly warm from their owner.  
  
Walking wasn’t easy in shoes four or five sizes too big, so she moved slowly, sliding her feet across the ground instead of taking individual steps. Glass skittered across the ground with each slide forwards. Four times she had to shove an arm or leg aside with her toe, and she felt a stickiness on the floor that must be blood.  
  
How long would it take Mycroft to find her? How long would it take before everybody realized how badly the mission had failed?  
  
She got to the door and put her weight against it, slowly shoving it open. There was a man down the end of the road, smoking. He took one glance at Anthea and left. She must look dreadful. Her entire face was bloodstained, as was her shirt and her hands.  
  
There was no CCTV to wave towards.  Anthea felt her knees shake with exhaustion. Her adrenaline rush was evaporating swiftly. Keeping one hand on the wall of the building she had just escaped, she staggered down towards the main road.   
  
Would Mycroft already know? What would he do? What would he say? How swiftly would he be able to get to her? He’d probably been listening into the emergency calls coming out of the area… if somebody had heard and called in…  
  
Anthea reached the main road. There was a grubby white camera sitting atop a jewelry shop. It looked like it was turned on, too. She started to walk towards it, but then made the mistake of glancing at her reflection in the glass.  
  
The rip across the top of her face was not deep. It probably wouldn’t even scar. But it did look absolutely dreadful. Blood had gushed over her face, leaving only her eye sockets and chin clean.  
  
From the end of the road came a scream of rubber. Anthea turned, then smiled. A sleek black car accompanied by an ambulance raced towards her. The ambulance didn’t have its siren on, and neither car was paying any attention to the road rules. She weakly raised one arm, just in case they hadn’t already seen her.  
  
Mycroft was first out of his car. His suit was horribly creased and his face was horribly pale. He stumbled towards her, hands outstretched, mouth open in shock.  
  
‘You- are you ok?’ His hands fluttered around her shoulders, afraid to touch her and risk aggravating hidden injuries. ‘Your- there’s lots of blood.’  
  
‘Head wound,’ Anthea said, surprised by how hoarse her voice sounded.  
  
Mycroft was shoved aside by the paramedic, who immediately started talking softly to her. She filtered out most of the medical jargon, listening just enough to answer his questions in as few words as possible. Mycroft stood just behind them, looking pale and angry.  
  
She was wrapped in a blanket made of thick, orange wool and lead towards the back of the ambulance, where she was sat down firmly. Blood was wiped from her face as somebody rolled up her bloody sleeve to deliver painkillers.  
  
‘We’re going to get this cleaned and stitched up right here,’ said a firm voice in her ear. ‘Then we’ll be taking you… on.’  
  
Not hospital, then. Probably one of the secure locations Mycroft seemed so apt at setting up without suspicion. Anthea closed her eyes as another needle number her forehead.   
  
She counted prime numbers inside her head. Up and up and up. She could feel her skin being tugged at, but it didn’t hurt. Then a soft, familiar hand slipped into her own.  
  
Mycroft gave her a slight smile as she opened her eyes. He was fussing with a wipe he’d been given by the paramedic. As she watched, he began to clean her fingers. She focused on that sensation- his soft fingertips on her palm, the way he moved over each knuckle.  
  
Judging from the way he winced when he looked at her face, she was being stitched up, and the sight was highly unpleasant. She was pleased that she couldn’t see it. Though bone tired, she felt much calmer than she had. Clearly the drugs had worked.  
  
‘There you are,’ Mycroft said, as the paramedic finished up. ‘I’ll need to get all the details from you, I’m afraid, but you can sleep first. The team is securing the building as we speak.’  
  
‘Hmm,’ Anthea said. ‘You stay with me?’  
  
‘Yes, of course.’ Mycroft looked as if anyone who dared stop him would be swiftly beheaded.   
  
With his help, Anthea climbed into the bed that sat down the center of the ambulance. It wasn’t very comfortable, but given the circumstances, it didn’t have to be. She was sleeping almost at once.

 

~

 

Anthea woke slowly. The first thing she knew was the darkness behind her eyelids. The next thing she knew was extreme pain throughout almost all of her body, and especially within her head. She groaned, and her voice cracked horribly.  
  
‘Here,’ came Mycrofts voice from bedside her. ‘Drink these, they’ll help with the pain.’  
  
She forced her eyelids open. The bedroom was dark, though sunlight seeped in past the thick curtains. Mycroft was half-dressed and offering her a glass of water and handful of pills.  
  
Anthea opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. She didn’t feel ready to sit up. Sighing, Mycroft balanced the pills on her tongue. One by one she swallowed them, Mycroft holding the glass of water to her lips.  
  
‘There,’ he said gently. ‘That’s better.’  
  
‘Time?’  
  
‘About midday. You slept like the dead. We had to carry you in. I gave you the sponge bath on my own, though, and changed you into something more comfortable.’  
  
Anthea blinked, looking down at herself as best she could. She was dressed in a simple cotton nightie, and her skin was quite clean. Yet she had no memory of anything after her head had touched the pillow.  
  
‘What’s the damage?’  
  
‘Very little,’ Mycroft assured her. He didn’t seem to be lying, either. ‘Henry Booth and his sister will be landing in Tokyo soon, at which point we’ll have them both in custody. In many ways it was a success.’  
  
Anthea managed a skeptical snort and Mycroft sighed.   
  
‘Well, in a technical sense. Obviously I would’ve preferred it immensely if you had come to no harm.’  
  
He shuffled down in the bed until they were nose to nose. His face was again lined with worry.   
  
‘You look a sight,’ he said softly. ‘Quite terrifying, and very beautiful.’  
  
‘I thought I’d look like Frankenstein’s monster,’ Anthea said, blinking. ‘I didn’t think it would scar, when I saw it.’  
  
‘No, I don’t think it will.’  
  
That was a relief. A facial scar would quite possibly get her fired- she would be far too distinctive for field work with it. Mycroft kissed the tip of her nose and then wrapped both his arm around her, drawing her close.  
  
‘Look at us,’ he said, ‘talking about work, as if that’s the most important thing right now. How are you feeling?’  
  
‘Tired,’ she said, resting her cheek on his chest. ‘Sore. It doesn’t seem properly real I suppose. Safe. Warm. Glad you’re here. Relieved it wasn’t a waste of time. Safe, but I’ve already said that.’  
  
He kissed the top of her head. The steady beating of his heart by her ear was very reassuring. His phone was sitting on the bedside table, charging.   
  
Slowly, they started to breathe in sync. As their bodies rose and fell in unison, Anthea felt herself begin to slip towards sleep. Mycroft began to run his fingers through her hair. He was extremely gentle.  
  
‘You gave me an awful fright,’ he said softly, as her eyelids began to droop. ‘I hated to think that you’d…’  
  
He didn’t finish the sentence.   
  
‘Love you too,’ Anthea murmured, and then she sighed as sleep claimed her again.  


**Author's Note:**

> You can send me a prompt on my tumblr- I love rare pair fic :)
> 
> raregloves.tumblr.com


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